With All My Best Intentions (2/2)
Title: With All My Best Intentions (2/2)
Rating: Um... probably best to go with NC-17.
Wordcount: ~13k
Warnings: Vampires, sex, blood/biting during sex, lesbian vampire jokes most decidedly in bad taste... Frankly, this fic is silly and gross and if you're bothered by blood, descriptions of sex, bad jokes, or any combination thereof, you probably don't want to read it. If you are googling yourself, your brothers, your bandmates, or your friends, and have found this? Don't read keep going. Unless you're Gabe Saporta, and then please, enjoy yourself, you're most likely going to be amused.
Summary: There are a few vampires in Atlanta. They’re… Well, they’re weird. Everyone's weird, but they don’t bother to hide it. When Kevin asks about it, Bill says it’s because they’ve learned that it’s a waste of time. Hiding the weird things. Because they’ve realized that everyone does them, so they think it’s stupid to act like they don’t. Even the other things, the *actually* weird things, they don’t hide anymore either. Kevin has had too many conversations with Biscuit to count where she’s just cheerfully picking her nose, or digging in her ear, or hitting on girls on their period because she can smell the blood on them. (Kevin goes to college. Mike, Bill, and Jen Stone are vampires. Insanity ensues.)
Characters: Kevin Jonas, Mike Carden, Bill Beckett, Jennifer Stone (aka Biscuit), Gabe Saporta, Selena Gomez, Gerard Way.
Notes: Lots of thanks to both of my marvelous betas, bayoumaharajah, for overall plot-and-timeline help, and sly_fuck for very encouraging enthusiasm and line-by-line commentary. ^__^ Also, seriously, guys, this is basically vampire pron. Don't read it if that bothers you.
“You ran out on me,” Mike says, three days later, on Wednesday, after Kevin comes out of his World Religions course. Mike is leaning against the wall of Sparks Hall, hands in the pockets of his battered black hoodie, a cigarette falling casually out of the corner of his mouth. Kevin is totally not noticing that Mike’s lips are chapped-it’s seven thirty at night, it’s way too dark to notice things like that. And why would a vampire even have chapped lips? Kevin’s totally imagining that he’s noticing it. Which means he’s staring at Mike’s mouth for no reason at all. “I’m starting to think you’re still afraid of me.”
Kevin shrugs. He doesn’t actually want to talk about this again. He’s also still working on that whole thing where he’s denying that he had butterflies in his stomach in Bill’s kitchen on Sunday.
Mike shrugs off the wall and follows Kevin down the steps to the shortcut through the parking garage. “Are you seriously going to ignore me?”
“That depends,” Kevin snaps, he can’t help it, “are you going to hit on me again?”
Mike studies him for a minute. “Serious question? Probably. You’re cute. You make me want to get you dirty.”
Kevin groans. “Can’t you just lay off? I don’t want-“ Mike’s closer, now, like he’s going to try something, he’s looming, Kevin hates when he does that. Totally hates it, really. “I don’t want things. Um. Like that. With you.”
Mike catches Kevin’s hand, tugs Kevin towards him. Kevin lets him, but he doesn’t want to. He doesn’t. He’s very firm on that. Mike hooks the hand not holding Kevin’s hand into the pocket of Kevin’s hoodie, reels him in closer, till their noses are almost touching. Kevin’s maybe a little less firm about the not wanting when he starts to feel Mike’s breath on his mouth. Kevin feels his breathing go all ragged, and he strains forward, just a little, just to close the distance, and Mike drops his hand and moves away like Kevin burned him.
Mike glares daggers at him, spits, “You are so full of shit, kid, I think I’d puke if I bit you.” He goes, catches the bus and leaves Kevin there, trembling, wondering what just happened.
--
“There’s clearly something wrong with me,” Kevin tells Selena seriously. “Deeply and intrinsically wrong with me.”
Selena nods, skimming through her Chemistry book with a highlighter. “That’s probably true.” She tucks a strand of dark hair behind her ear. “Maybe you’re inbred.”
Kevin just gapes at her for a minute. “Seriously, your response to, ‘I think I want to kiss Mike, with my lips, and his lips, his boy lips, Selena,’ is that maybe I’m inbred?”
Selena just shrugs. “I’m not clear on what the problem is, here. Mike’s hot, except for the part where he sort of looks like a murderous hobo.” She hums to herself and highlights a passage in the textbook, like Kevin’s world isn’t ending right now.
“Mike is a boy! Selena, he has boy parts! When he’s naked, there are parts that are attached to boys!” Kevin’s maybe freaking out a little. “Also, I think he hates me now.”
Selena doesn’t even look up. “Well, it’s probably because you’re a homophobic gay dude and you keep flirting with him and then acting like you’re not into him. He’s a vampire, Kev, he’s not used to people being all retarded. You know they all just say what they want.” She thinks about it, then adds, “Except Bill. I’m pretty sure he says things just to see what people will do. Yesterday he asked me if I minded if he pleasured himself on Gabe’s hipbones. Like Gabe’s my property or something. That dude is freaking weird. Who even says pleasure? Like, oh, top of the morning, old chap, what’s your pleasure?” She makes an exaggerated gagging sound.
Kevin boggles at her over the second part of her comment, because he utterly refuses to contemplate the first part. “And you’re okay with that?”
“Well, why wouldn’t I be?” she asks, and when Kevin just keeps blinking like a deer in the headlights, she looks up with an exasperated sigh. “What, Kevin?”
“Gabe’s your boyfriend! His boy parts, your girl parts, they go together, and you’re okay with Bill molesting him?” There are some things Kevin can’t actually get his mind wrapped around.
Selena looks at him like he has two heads. Or maybe three. “What are you talking about? Gabe’s not my boyfriend. Kevin, boys are gross, geez. Cooties,” she scoffs. “Boys are covered in cooties.”
Kevin is starting to think that everything in the world is just screwed on backwards. And possibly upside down.
--
Biscuit, sitting in the middle of her kitchen table and listening to Kevin explain his situation, is completely unsympathetic. “I’m confused,” she says, picking at her teeth. There’s a dark, matted bit in her auburn hair, like maybe blood’s dried in it. Her face is sweet, and round, and would be totally innocent, except for the red smear on her cheek. “You claim that you’re a… heterosexual, is that right?”
Kevin huffs at her. “I’m not claiming, I am. I am a-I’m straight.” He’s not going to say heterosexual, like he’s talking about some weird breed of aliens. He’s straight. “What is even in your teeth? You don’t eat.”
She grins, all sharp edges and amusement. “Oh, you know. Bits of cotton.”
Kevin tries very, very hard not to think about it, and goes back to the matter at hand. “I’m straight, okay, I like women.”
“But you don’t like boobs.” She raises an eyebrow.
Kevin twitches a little, but holds firm. “I don’t, uh, I mean. I could learn to like them, I guess?” He immediately cringes; he really just shouldn’t have come to Biscuit about this. She’s absolutely not the-
And, yep, out come her boobs. Kevin maybe throws up in his mouth a little. They’re all floppy and jiggly, and she’s waggling them at him.
“For the love of all that is good, woman, put them away!” he yells, covering his eyes. Kevin might have to be sick.
She pulls her bra back up, but doesn’t bother to button her shirt. She hops off the table and pats him sympathetically on the head. “I just really hope you like cock, Jonas, because otherwise we’re going to have to look into asexual reproduction methods for you.” She opens the window and throws a leg over, hopping down onto the fire escape.
“That doesn’t even make sense!” Kevin yells after her helplessly. “If I’m sleeping with guys, I’m not reproducing, either!”
A giggle floats back over her shoulder as she tramps down the fire escape steps. “Shows what you know, kitten!”
Kevin puts his head in his hands and sort of wants to die a little.
--
Mike eventually starts talking to him again. It’s abrupt and awkward, and it starts with a, “Do you want a soda?” in Bill’s kitchen, and ends with a, “You’re a fucktard, Jonas.” But it comes with a smile, and a hip check, and Kevin feels a butterfly give a faintly hopeful sort of flutter.
“Yeah?” he says, beaming.
“Yeah,” Mike says, and hands him a cherry coke.
--
Biscuit doesn’t normally hang around with everyone else. Mostly, she sits in her apartment, gluing bits of broken crockery to lampshades and trying to sell it on the internet as art. The rest of the time, she’s usually sitting on the wall outside the Student Center, wolf-whistling at girls and offering to show them a good time. Usually, people ignore her, but Kevin has trouble with that-probably because she likes Kevin, and goes out of her way to torment him especially.
“Kitten!” she crows as Kevin comes up to the bus stop. She stands on the wall and hugs Kevin around the head. Kevin tries not to make any sudden movements or noises.
“Hey, Bis,” he says, trying to stay casual. Usually, if things bore Biscuit, she leaves them alone.
No chance of that, today, apparently. “Bill says you’re holding out on me.” She leers at him, biting her lip like an excited little kid with a secret. “Bill says you have a ladyfriend.”
Kevin stiffens. He knew it would come to this eventually, that he couldn’t keep the two away from one another forever, but he’d sort of hoped. He’s not sure whether or not the universe will implode if he puts them in the same room. “Something like that,” he hedges, stalling.
The bus does not conveniently pull up and save him. Bis strokes his hair like most people pet their cats. Kevin feels sort of objectified, but it’s probably better to be objectified than snacked on. “Nonsense, kitten. I must meet her. You’ll absolutely have to bring her to my apartment.”
Kevin sighs, but he knows there won’t be any getting out of it.
--
Kevin doesn’t actually want to think about when Selena meets Bis. It’s horrible and Bis is shirtless in the first ten minutes, and Kevin doesn’t even understand how that happens, how people can look at each other and then know that they want to be naked together. It boggles the mind.
The conversation basically consists of,
“Hi, I’m Selena, it’s, um, nice to meet you?”
“Biscuit. You smell like blood.”
“Um… well. That happens, now and again?”
“How do you feel about being naked while that happens?”
“…Sure, why not?”
He leaves Selena at Bis’s apartment. He’ll probably never see her again. He’ll be left alone with crazy Bill and Gabe and their gay, gay sex, and Mike, and his creepy, dead eyes and peculiar smiles. Kevin is doomed.
--
They’re watching a movie. They’re watching Pulp Fiction, and it’s the first time they’ve been alone together since Mike forgave him-or acted like he forgave him, whatever.
Kevin starts to think it’s a bad idea about the time when he reaches for the popcorn, and Mike grabs his arm.
“Would you fucking stop that, Jonas?” he demands, glaring at Kevin through his hair.
“Stop what?” Kevin’s genuinely confused.
“Taunting me. It’s almost fucking December, okay, can’t you wear long sleeves?” Mike is staring at Kevin’s wrist, his thumb running back and forth over the vein pulsing under Kevin’s skin.
“Mike,“ Kevin says, carefully, like he would say ‘good dog,’ to a Doberman with its hackles up.
“Jonas,” Mike replies equably, not looking away from Kevin’s wrist. His eyes are all dark and sort of creepy, in a way that is most definitely not hot at all. Except that Kevin’s belly is clenching, and he kind of wouldn’t mind if he died right now.
“What-“ Kevin swallows, and Mike’s eyes flick up, just for an instant, then back down to his grip on Kevin’s arm. “What are you, um. What are you doing?”
Mike frowns and hums for a moment. Then he says, like he’s still thinking about it, “I’m trying to decide if you’d die of fear of me eating you, or of embarrassment of the hard on you’d get, if I bit you right now.”
Kevin swallows again, forcing down a lump in his throat. “Mike,” he starts, but then there’s a hot, wet drag over the skin of his wrist, and Kevin’s breath catches in his throat. “I don-I don’t know why you would, uh. Why you’d think I’d be, be aroused by you, uh, doing-“
Mike grins at him, looking up through his fringe to meet Kevin’s eyes. “You would be,” he says, like there’s no question at all, like Kevin isn’t straight and also not into being fed on.
“No, okay, look, Mike, you’re-we’re friends, okay, now, and I’ve forgiven you for that whole thing when we met-but-okay, but I’m not, not into men, alright, or. Or that, the biting thing.” It’s true. It is. And the licking has raised no doubts whatsoever in Kevin’s mind. None at all.
Mike looks at him for a long moment, calculating, and Kevin feels something in his stomach tighten. Slowly, without looking away from Kevin’s eyes, Mike raises Kevin’s hand to his mouth.
“Mike-“ Kevin says, for what feels like the thousandth time today.
“Jonas. Shut the fuck up a minute, okay?” He doesn’t wait for Kevin to say anything, which is probably good, because he’s dragging his tongue over Kevin’s palm, his wrist, the pads of his fingers, and Kevin doesn’t think he could say anything, anyway. He’s maybe even having trouble breathing-and, as Mike sucks Kevin’s finger into his mouth, Kevin wouldn’t hesitate to raise the ‘maybe’ to a ‘definitely.’ Kevin is definitely having trouble breathing.
Mike’s mouth slips off his finger, and he sighs against Kevin’s skin. Kevin’s whole arm spangles. Nervously, Kevin licks his lips, tries to say something, maybe like, “That was nice, really, but no, thank you,” but Mike clearly takes the whole lip-licking thing as an invitation. He leans in, and Kevin’s heart stops. His lips are cool and soft and sort of chapped, and Kevin doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to move again.
And then Mike is gone, moving away, and Kevin is cold. “What-where are you going?” he asks, honestly confused this time.
Mike doesn’t meet his eyes. “You don’t want this,” he says, growly, like he’s mad at himself, and then he’s gone, the door to Kevin’s dorm banging shut in his wake. Something that might be “Fucking kittens,” drifts through the door.
Kevin tries really hard not to cry. It doesn’t entirely work.
--
“He kissed you?” Bis asks, raising an eyebrow. “Are you sure?”
“What kind of question even is that?” Kevin demands. “Yes, I’m sure!”
Selena giggles and leans her head onto Biscuit’s shoulder. “Ha. It’s not like you’d know from your vast wealth of experience.”
Bis snorts. “That’s terrible, dear, don’t taunt the poor boy.” She stops, considers what she just said, and bursts out laughing. “Never mind.”
Kevin leaves when it becomes evident that they’re more interested in taking each other’s clothes off than helping him. He tries not to gag at the noises on his way out.
--
Bill is Kevin’s last resort. He’s sure not going to Biscuit or Selena again.
When Kevin goes looking for Bill, he finds him in the Starbucks across from the Aderhold building, and Gerard, the art major, is with him. They’re gesturing wildly at one another over a piece of paper.
“I’m dying,” Kevin announces, flopping into the seat next to them.
Gerard looks him over, shoving a tuft of pink hair out of his eyes. “Are you sure? You look mostly in one piece.”
“As much as you ever do, anyway, poodle,” Bill cuts in, smirking. “But you don’t smell like you’re dying. You smell like…” He trails off, considering.
“Kittens,” Kevin fills in morosely. His life is ending. He’s stupid, and Mike is wonderful, and Kevin is not even a little bit straight, and Mike thinks, finally, that he is, and everything is terrible. And he smells like kittens.
Bill snaps his fingers. “That’s it, exactly, Jonas. Kittens. You’ve never been more right.”
Kevin stands up as Gerard leans in curiously, trying to sniff him. This can only get worse. Bill will probably end up trying to use hand puppets again, like he did when Kevin asked him what scissoring was. Kevin has never been more horrified than he was that night. “You know what? Never mind. I’m just… going to go. Away. Now.” He backpedals out of the coffee shop as fast as his legs will carry him, and only just misses crashing into Mike on the way out the door.
Mike snorts, shoves Kevin out of the way, and goes to sit with Bill and Gerard. Like he and Kevin didn’t even know each other.
--
Mike has the best arms. They’re wiry and strong and there’s a cord of muscle that wraps around his forearms that just begs Kevin to lick it. Kevin has come to terms with this fact. He’s accepted his complete and total retarded amounts of homosexual desire for Mike Carden.
Mike also has this feral look in his eyes all the time, lately. Like he wants to eat everyone in his way, and like it’s all Kevin’s fault.
When Kevin finally gets him alone, it’s in the hallway of Bill’s apartment, on an evening in early December, two weeks before finals. He means to say something, he does, but Mike’s all sleepy-looking, like maybe he was doing whatever version of napping vampires have, and his hair is all ruffled and in his eyes.
“Um,” Kevin says, instead of anything sensible or coherent or resembling an apology for how much of an utter retard he’s been.
Mike glares at him for a minute and crosses his totally epic arms. “What, Jonas?”
Kevin still completely fails to respond. He hadn’t factored in the inrush of total mind-babble in the wake of deciding that he was allowed to think about boys-Mike-in a sexy-times sort of way.
Mike’s lips curl slowly up into a smile. “You’re looking at me,” he says, looking back. It makes Kevin feel uncomfortable and sort of naked.
“I have eyes, they look at things,” Kevin says, defending himself. He does have eyes. They do look at things. And he can’t tear them away from the strip of skin peeking out between Mike’s shirt and the top of his jeans. It’s so pale that it looks like it’s glowing-Kevin wonders what Mike looked like before the virus. If he was tan, if he had freckles or tan lines or if he sunburned easily.
Mike slides two fingers under Kevin’s chin, tips his face up. He leans in close enough that Kevin can feel Mike’s breath on his lips. It’s warm and smells like iron and coffee.
Kevin swallows hard. “Mike,” he says, hardly moving his lips at all.
Mike’s eyelashes dip down once, twice. “Yeah?” he says, and his voice is rough and low.
Kevin doesn’t actually remember what he was going to say. It might have been something like “I’m sorry,” but he’s not really sure. Something in his chest is tight, like there’s someone squeezing his lungs and ribs and heart. “Never mind,” he says, looking anywhere but Mike’s eyes.
“Good,” Mike says, and leans in the rest of the way.
--
Mike’s kisses aren’t lazy, or sweet, or careful. He kisses hungrily, like this is as close to devouring Kevin as he can get, so he’ll take what he can. Kevin sort of can’t help melting into it.
Mike’s teeth graze Kevin’s lower lip, and a sparkle of venom seeps into Kevin’s bloodstream, making him gasp. Mike grins, like he’d done it on purpose, and sucks hard at the lip. “I want you,” he murmurs into Kevin’s mouth, over and over, and strokes a hand up Kevin’s ribcage, under his shirt.
Kevin arches into it, presses back against the knuckles that graze his stomach while Mike undoes the buttons on his jeans. “Yeah?” he asks, trying to ignore the tremors in his hands as he slides Mike’s shirt up, over his chest.
Mike grins wolfishly. “I’m going to make you scream, Jonas.”
Kevin doesn’t doubt it. He tries not to give in too quickly, though. He doesn’t think that’s really what Mike’s looking for, anyways.
--
Kevin isn’t sure if they’re… dating. But most days, Mike is there when Kevin falls asleep, and he’s usually there when Kevin wakes up, too. Most days, Mike brings him dinner after class, as soon as he can get out once the sun’s set. Most days, Kevin and Mike cheerfully endure everyone’s good-natured taunting, and try to pretend like they aren’t disturbed and turned on, respectively, by Bill and Gabe’s constant, violent, public sex. Most days, Kevin does his best to avoid seeing Selena or Biscuit naked, and mostly he fails, because all of Kevin’s friends have bizarre problems with boundaries and personal bubbles and basic hygiene.
Kevin has learned not to ask why he doesn’t ever see bite marks on Selena’s neck. Mike has learned that Selena will slap him if he makes that-time-of-the-month jokes, even if it’s obviously that-time-of-the-month. Selena has learned that Bill and Gabe are not monogamous, and are not above trying to get into her strictly lesbian pants. Kevin has learned, through a horrible sock-puppet reenactment, that Selena’s pants are not as strictly lesbian as she’d said they were. Bill and Gabe have learned, painfully, that Bis doesn’t take kindly to boys touching her ladyfriends in naked ways.
Mostly, though, Kevin has learned how to be stupidly, satisfyingly happy for the first time in a long time.
--
Mike is kind of a slut for Kevin. It’s not like he’s Beckett, getting all crazy and naked and on his knees for the first person that says, ‘go,’ but with Kevin? Mike kind of wants to see how far he can push him, how much he can do before Kevin falls apart and lets him pick him up again. And maybe half of it is to prove to himself that he will, will pick him up again, and the other half is to maybe see if Kevin will let him. Either way, Mike goes all out.
Kevin whimpers when Mike sucks bruises into the sides of his throat. He mewls, hips jerking up frantically, when Mike nips at the skin stretched over his hips. He pants, desperate and wanton and gorgeous, when Mike goes down on him. Mike would bet money that it’s the first time anyone’s done it to him, too. That shouldn’t be as much of a turn-on as it is.
The big vein in Kevin’s thigh is pulsing with the rapid beat of his heart. It’s distracting, throwing off his rhythm. Mike runs a thumb over it, over and over, as Kevin pushes up into his mouth.
“Mike, Mike, please,” he babbles, and Mike’s thumb keeps time over the vein. It almost glows, soft and indigo under the gleam of sweat-damp skin.
“Mike?” Kevin says, unsure, unsteady, and Mike realizes that he’s stopped moving, entranced by the beat of blood under his fingers.
“Sorry,” Mike says, and moves to take Kevin back into his mouth. Kevin’s hand on his hair stops him. “What?” he asks, a little peevish, shaking the hair out of his eyes to look up at Kevin. He’s trying, he is-there are just some things that are... distracting. It’s not like he can help it.
Kevin hesitates. “Are you…” he takes a deep breath. “Is it that you’re. I mean… hungry?”
Mike shrugs. “Not exactly.” He is, though. He hasn’t fed in weeks, not since he and Kevin got together. Kevin isn’t possessive, but he’s a guy with brothers, brothers who got what he wanted, a lot of the time, so he doesn’t get loudly jealous, he gets quietly sad, and Mike doesn’t want to see that kicked-puppy look any more than he has to. He doesn’t know how Kevin would react, if he actually thought about Mike feeding on other people, being that intimate-because it is intimate, however casual Beckett acts like it is-but he doesn’t want to risk scaring Kevin off this soon.
“You just,” Kevin pauses, like he’s sounding it out. “You just want me.” His face his beet red. “To…eat. Drink. Whatever.”
Mike sits back on his heels, looking anywhere but at Kevin’s face. “You make it sound like I want to kill you.” He doesn’t, it’s not. It’s not anything like that. Fuck, it doesn’t even feel the same as being hungry-it’s just an urge. A push, to sink his teeth into Kevin’s skin and taste. Even if he is hungry as fuck. “I-you realize, right, that I haven’t, I mean, I’m not feeding off anyone else. We’re together, Jonas, and I didn’t want-I didn’t want you to think I wasn’t all in.”
Kevin looks away from him, blushing pink. “You-I mean, you don’t. You just want to, uh. A little?”
“Yeah,” Mike says, and gnaws on his lip a little. “Not-I mean, it wouldn’t be… I don’t want to hurt you.” He pauses; that’s not exactly true. “I wouldn’t want to hurt you anymore than you’d like, anyways.”
Kevin squawks. It’s sort of stupidly adorable-Mike still can’t get used to thinking anything is adorable. But everything Kevin does seems to be. “I don’t like things that hurt, Mike, geez.”
Mike doesn’t bother to argue, just rakes a fingernail over the curve of Kevin’s hipbone-Kevin’s hips jerk away from the wall, and a little whimper slips out of his mouth. “Oh, yeah, you totally hated that,” Mike teases, licking over the red line to sooth it.
Kevin shudders and braces himself with a hand in Mike’s hair. It feels nice, like it’s maybe bracing Mike, too. Anchoring him. “Well, okay, not totally,” Kevin concedes, hiding a grin. He sobers after a moment, though, and says, “You really want that?”
Mike studies his hands. “You wouldn’t hate it, Jonas. I’d-I mean, I’d make sure.” He feels himself reddening. This isn’t right, this isn’t how it goes. People beg him for this, he doesn’t skirt around it like an awkward fucking teenager.
Kevin’s silent for a minute. Mike doesn’t look up-doesn’t want to jinx it, doesn’t want to seem too eager. He is, though, he’s trembling, hands shaking like it’s his first time. He barely even remembers being a virgin, it’s completely stupid, completely fucked up. But his hands are shaking anyway. He rests his head against Kevin’s thigh, feels Kevin’s pulse under his cheek. Kevin runs an absent hand through his hair for a minute.
“Not-“ Kevin swallows. “Not like this. I mean.” He tugs Mike to his feet. “I mean, yes, okay, yes, but not. Not here. Home? The-the dorm? Bed?”
Mike grins, can feel the smile eating up his whole face. “You’re serious?” he says, and he doesn’t mean to, but he beams. “You’re sure?”
Kevin smiles back, a little hesitant, but nods. “Yeah. I’m-I’m sure.”
--
Kevin pants, open mouthed and damp, as Mike scissors his fingers inside of him.
“Okay, Jonas?” Mike murmurs in his ear, stroking his hair with his other hand.
Kevin laughs, a little hysterically. “Oh yeah,” he breathes, and it maybe comes out shaky. He’s not sure if he’s ever been more terrified or more into something in his life. Mike’s fingers brush over something inside of him, and Kevin tries not to make noise, but a little cry maybe slips out anyways.
Mike chuckles into the skin of his neck. “Fucking hot,” he says, like Kevin doesn’t sound like a complete moron, and presses a fingertip into that spot again. Kevin’s vision goes white, and he’s blinking the stars away when Mike pulls his fingers out. He sits back on his heels and studies Kevin for a minute.
Kevin feels sort of exposed, lying on his back, knees apart. He tries to sort of curl himself up, to help with the feeling, but Mike pins him in place, lays him out flat. “I feel naked,” he confesses, fighting Mike’s grip a little.
“You are naked,” Mike says, clearly trying not to laugh. “I thought that was the point.”
Kevin means to argue more, means to explain, but then Mike is pushing his knees back towards his shoulders and pressing inside, and Kevin tries really hard to breathe through the pain.
“You okay?” Mike asks, not stopping, pushing forward and deeper until Kevin thinks that he’s going to cry.
Kevin takes a deep breath and steadies himself. “Hurts,” he says, quietly, ashamed, and doesn’t look Mike in the eye.
Mike nods into Kevin’s shoulder. “It won’t in a minute,” he says, and Kevin believes him. Then he’s tracing distracting lines over Kevin’s throat with his tongue as he rocks in and out, pressing a little deeper each time. It hurts less and less, and then Mike’s pressed up against that spot again, and Kevin doesn’t remember, exactly, what was the problem before, because there are stars exploding in his stomach and it’s all he can do not to moan.
Mike presses back against it, harder, this time, and Kevin can’t even manage that anymore. Mike is nipping at his neck, sucking at the skin, and there’s a tiny graze of teeth when Mike asks, “Ready?”
Kevin tries to remember what he’s supposed to be ready for, but he nods anyways, because he’s sort of ready for anything right now. And then Mike bites down, and Kevin feels tears stream out of his eyes as skin splits under Mike’s teeth.
--
Kevin spasms around him, clenching down, and it’s all Mike can do not to come right then. Kevin’s breathing is rough and ragged, and he’s clawing frantically at Mike’s shoulders. Mike can’t tell if Kevin’s trying to pull him closer or get away.
“Shh,” Mike whispers, lapping at the bite. Kevin’s blood sings on Mike’s tongue. It tastes like cherry coke and electricity and sugar and Kevin, and if Mike could die, he would probably pick right now to do it, because nothing has ever felt like this. It’s the closest thing to sunshine that Mike’s felt in years. “Shh.” He holds Kevin steady, doesn’t move much, just rolls his hips a little now and then, to remind Kevin that he’s there while he feeds. Kevin is whimpering, nails digging into Mike’s skin, and he’s so hard that Mike can feel his pulse mirrored in his cock, trapped against Mike’s hip.
“Mike,” Kevin says, sounding strangled. “Mike, Mike.” He’s rocking his hips up, into Mike, grinding against him.
Mike presses back, pinning him to the bed, and feels the growl rip out of his throat, can’t hold it back. “Hold. Still,” he says, and bites again into the wound on Kevin’s neck. Kevin keens, fucking keens, and his hips lift of the bed as he tightens around Mike again. His mouth opens and closes wetly near Mike’s ear, and Mike pets Kevin’s jaw with one hand, holding his chin clear, out of the way. He bites deeper, sucking more of the sharp, bright liquid into his mouth. “So fucking good,” he hisses into Kevin’s skin, and Kevin doesn’t respond, just sobs and thrusts against Mike’s abdomen.
--
Kevin feels like he’s moving through molasses, and like there’s glitter and live wires in his veins. It’s the venom, he knows that, mentally, but he doesn’t really give a crap about anything other than getting Mike deeper inside of him, moving faster, getting over the edge of the exhilaration thrumming through him.
“Please,” he gasps, and he knows he babbles something after that, but Kevin isn’t exactly sure what it is, and he just wants friction, pressure, anything.
Mike digs his fingers into Kevin’s jaw and tips his head to the side, exposing more of his throat. “Please what?” he growls, it’s an actual growl, and Kevin wishes he could be afraid, but he’s just. Just pulsing, humming with desire and desperate.
“Anything,” Kevin says, and he knows that’s wrong, he doesn’t want anything, he wants to come, but he’s not sure he can even find the words to ask for that.
Mike seems to understand, though, because he moves inside of Kevin again, thrusts hard and fast and deep, and Kevin feels his hips hitching up with every motion. Mike’s teeth are gone from his neck, now Mike’s sucking, hard, and Kevin can feel himself getting dizzy and lightheaded through the pressure building, low in his belly.
Mike growls again, in the back of his throat, and picks up speed. One hand, the one not on Kevin’s jaw, slides between them to wrap around Kevin’s cock and jerk hard, once, twice, and then there’s a rushing noise in Kevin’s ears and a painful white light behind his eyes, and he’s pretty sure that there’s never been anything this amazing, ever, in the history of the entire world.
Mike pulls away from the side of Kevin’s throat and looks at him. Kevin blinks at him, hazily, and there’s blood all around Mike’s lips when he kisses Kevin, but Kevin isn’t sure he minds. He pants into Kevin’s lips as he thrusts again, fast, and pushes in as deep as he can, holds himself there and groans.
When they’re melted together, sticky and damp, Mike curls himself around Kevin’s side and laps at the knitting wound on the side of his neck. “You regret it?” he asks, roughly, like he’s trying to sound like he doesn’t really care one way or another.
Kevin tips his head a little further to the side, to give Mike better access. “No,” he says, and means it. He can feel Mike’s grin against his skin.
--
Rating: Um... probably best to go with NC-17.
Wordcount: ~13k
Warnings: Vampires, sex, blood/biting during sex, lesbian vampire jokes most decidedly in bad taste... Frankly, this fic is silly and gross and if you're bothered by blood, descriptions of sex, bad jokes, or any combination thereof, you probably don't want to read it. If you are googling yourself, your brothers, your bandmates, or your friends, and have found this? Don't read keep going. Unless you're Gabe Saporta, and then please, enjoy yourself, you're most likely going to be amused.
Summary: There are a few vampires in Atlanta. They’re… Well, they’re weird. Everyone's weird, but they don’t bother to hide it. When Kevin asks about it, Bill says it’s because they’ve learned that it’s a waste of time. Hiding the weird things. Because they’ve realized that everyone does them, so they think it’s stupid to act like they don’t. Even the other things, the *actually* weird things, they don’t hide anymore either. Kevin has had too many conversations with Biscuit to count where she’s just cheerfully picking her nose, or digging in her ear, or hitting on girls on their period because she can smell the blood on them. (Kevin goes to college. Mike, Bill, and Jen Stone are vampires. Insanity ensues.)
Characters: Kevin Jonas, Mike Carden, Bill Beckett, Jennifer Stone (aka Biscuit), Gabe Saporta, Selena Gomez, Gerard Way.
Notes: Lots of thanks to both of my marvelous betas, bayoumaharajah, for overall plot-and-timeline help, and sly_fuck for very encouraging enthusiasm and line-by-line commentary. ^__^ Also, seriously, guys, this is basically vampire pron. Don't read it if that bothers you.
“You ran out on me,” Mike says, three days later, on Wednesday, after Kevin comes out of his World Religions course. Mike is leaning against the wall of Sparks Hall, hands in the pockets of his battered black hoodie, a cigarette falling casually out of the corner of his mouth. Kevin is totally not noticing that Mike’s lips are chapped-it’s seven thirty at night, it’s way too dark to notice things like that. And why would a vampire even have chapped lips? Kevin’s totally imagining that he’s noticing it. Which means he’s staring at Mike’s mouth for no reason at all. “I’m starting to think you’re still afraid of me.”
Kevin shrugs. He doesn’t actually want to talk about this again. He’s also still working on that whole thing where he’s denying that he had butterflies in his stomach in Bill’s kitchen on Sunday.
Mike shrugs off the wall and follows Kevin down the steps to the shortcut through the parking garage. “Are you seriously going to ignore me?”
“That depends,” Kevin snaps, he can’t help it, “are you going to hit on me again?”
Mike studies him for a minute. “Serious question? Probably. You’re cute. You make me want to get you dirty.”
Kevin groans. “Can’t you just lay off? I don’t want-“ Mike’s closer, now, like he’s going to try something, he’s looming, Kevin hates when he does that. Totally hates it, really. “I don’t want things. Um. Like that. With you.”
Mike catches Kevin’s hand, tugs Kevin towards him. Kevin lets him, but he doesn’t want to. He doesn’t. He’s very firm on that. Mike hooks the hand not holding Kevin’s hand into the pocket of Kevin’s hoodie, reels him in closer, till their noses are almost touching. Kevin’s maybe a little less firm about the not wanting when he starts to feel Mike’s breath on his mouth. Kevin feels his breathing go all ragged, and he strains forward, just a little, just to close the distance, and Mike drops his hand and moves away like Kevin burned him.
Mike glares daggers at him, spits, “You are so full of shit, kid, I think I’d puke if I bit you.” He goes, catches the bus and leaves Kevin there, trembling, wondering what just happened.
--
“There’s clearly something wrong with me,” Kevin tells Selena seriously. “Deeply and intrinsically wrong with me.”
Selena nods, skimming through her Chemistry book with a highlighter. “That’s probably true.” She tucks a strand of dark hair behind her ear. “Maybe you’re inbred.”
Kevin just gapes at her for a minute. “Seriously, your response to, ‘I think I want to kiss Mike, with my lips, and his lips, his boy lips, Selena,’ is that maybe I’m inbred?”
Selena just shrugs. “I’m not clear on what the problem is, here. Mike’s hot, except for the part where he sort of looks like a murderous hobo.” She hums to herself and highlights a passage in the textbook, like Kevin’s world isn’t ending right now.
“Mike is a boy! Selena, he has boy parts! When he’s naked, there are parts that are attached to boys!” Kevin’s maybe freaking out a little. “Also, I think he hates me now.”
Selena doesn’t even look up. “Well, it’s probably because you’re a homophobic gay dude and you keep flirting with him and then acting like you’re not into him. He’s a vampire, Kev, he’s not used to people being all retarded. You know they all just say what they want.” She thinks about it, then adds, “Except Bill. I’m pretty sure he says things just to see what people will do. Yesterday he asked me if I minded if he pleasured himself on Gabe’s hipbones. Like Gabe’s my property or something. That dude is freaking weird. Who even says pleasure? Like, oh, top of the morning, old chap, what’s your pleasure?” She makes an exaggerated gagging sound.
Kevin boggles at her over the second part of her comment, because he utterly refuses to contemplate the first part. “And you’re okay with that?”
“Well, why wouldn’t I be?” she asks, and when Kevin just keeps blinking like a deer in the headlights, she looks up with an exasperated sigh. “What, Kevin?”
“Gabe’s your boyfriend! His boy parts, your girl parts, they go together, and you’re okay with Bill molesting him?” There are some things Kevin can’t actually get his mind wrapped around.
Selena looks at him like he has two heads. Or maybe three. “What are you talking about? Gabe’s not my boyfriend. Kevin, boys are gross, geez. Cooties,” she scoffs. “Boys are covered in cooties.”
Kevin is starting to think that everything in the world is just screwed on backwards. And possibly upside down.
--
Biscuit, sitting in the middle of her kitchen table and listening to Kevin explain his situation, is completely unsympathetic. “I’m confused,” she says, picking at her teeth. There’s a dark, matted bit in her auburn hair, like maybe blood’s dried in it. Her face is sweet, and round, and would be totally innocent, except for the red smear on her cheek. “You claim that you’re a… heterosexual, is that right?”
Kevin huffs at her. “I’m not claiming, I am. I am a-I’m straight.” He’s not going to say heterosexual, like he’s talking about some weird breed of aliens. He’s straight. “What is even in your teeth? You don’t eat.”
She grins, all sharp edges and amusement. “Oh, you know. Bits of cotton.”
Kevin tries very, very hard not to think about it, and goes back to the matter at hand. “I’m straight, okay, I like women.”
“But you don’t like boobs.” She raises an eyebrow.
Kevin twitches a little, but holds firm. “I don’t, uh, I mean. I could learn to like them, I guess?” He immediately cringes; he really just shouldn’t have come to Biscuit about this. She’s absolutely not the-
And, yep, out come her boobs. Kevin maybe throws up in his mouth a little. They’re all floppy and jiggly, and she’s waggling them at him.
“For the love of all that is good, woman, put them away!” he yells, covering his eyes. Kevin might have to be sick.
She pulls her bra back up, but doesn’t bother to button her shirt. She hops off the table and pats him sympathetically on the head. “I just really hope you like cock, Jonas, because otherwise we’re going to have to look into asexual reproduction methods for you.” She opens the window and throws a leg over, hopping down onto the fire escape.
“That doesn’t even make sense!” Kevin yells after her helplessly. “If I’m sleeping with guys, I’m not reproducing, either!”
A giggle floats back over her shoulder as she tramps down the fire escape steps. “Shows what you know, kitten!”
Kevin puts his head in his hands and sort of wants to die a little.
--
Mike eventually starts talking to him again. It’s abrupt and awkward, and it starts with a, “Do you want a soda?” in Bill’s kitchen, and ends with a, “You’re a fucktard, Jonas.” But it comes with a smile, and a hip check, and Kevin feels a butterfly give a faintly hopeful sort of flutter.
“Yeah?” he says, beaming.
“Yeah,” Mike says, and hands him a cherry coke.
--
Biscuit doesn’t normally hang around with everyone else. Mostly, she sits in her apartment, gluing bits of broken crockery to lampshades and trying to sell it on the internet as art. The rest of the time, she’s usually sitting on the wall outside the Student Center, wolf-whistling at girls and offering to show them a good time. Usually, people ignore her, but Kevin has trouble with that-probably because she likes Kevin, and goes out of her way to torment him especially.
“Kitten!” she crows as Kevin comes up to the bus stop. She stands on the wall and hugs Kevin around the head. Kevin tries not to make any sudden movements or noises.
“Hey, Bis,” he says, trying to stay casual. Usually, if things bore Biscuit, she leaves them alone.
No chance of that, today, apparently. “Bill says you’re holding out on me.” She leers at him, biting her lip like an excited little kid with a secret. “Bill says you have a ladyfriend.”
Kevin stiffens. He knew it would come to this eventually, that he couldn’t keep the two away from one another forever, but he’d sort of hoped. He’s not sure whether or not the universe will implode if he puts them in the same room. “Something like that,” he hedges, stalling.
The bus does not conveniently pull up and save him. Bis strokes his hair like most people pet their cats. Kevin feels sort of objectified, but it’s probably better to be objectified than snacked on. “Nonsense, kitten. I must meet her. You’ll absolutely have to bring her to my apartment.”
Kevin sighs, but he knows there won’t be any getting out of it.
--
Kevin doesn’t actually want to think about when Selena meets Bis. It’s horrible and Bis is shirtless in the first ten minutes, and Kevin doesn’t even understand how that happens, how people can look at each other and then know that they want to be naked together. It boggles the mind.
The conversation basically consists of,
“Hi, I’m Selena, it’s, um, nice to meet you?”
“Biscuit. You smell like blood.”
“Um… well. That happens, now and again?”
“How do you feel about being naked while that happens?”
“…Sure, why not?”
He leaves Selena at Bis’s apartment. He’ll probably never see her again. He’ll be left alone with crazy Bill and Gabe and their gay, gay sex, and Mike, and his creepy, dead eyes and peculiar smiles. Kevin is doomed.
--
They’re watching a movie. They’re watching Pulp Fiction, and it’s the first time they’ve been alone together since Mike forgave him-or acted like he forgave him, whatever.
Kevin starts to think it’s a bad idea about the time when he reaches for the popcorn, and Mike grabs his arm.
“Would you fucking stop that, Jonas?” he demands, glaring at Kevin through his hair.
“Stop what?” Kevin’s genuinely confused.
“Taunting me. It’s almost fucking December, okay, can’t you wear long sleeves?” Mike is staring at Kevin’s wrist, his thumb running back and forth over the vein pulsing under Kevin’s skin.
“Mike,“ Kevin says, carefully, like he would say ‘good dog,’ to a Doberman with its hackles up.
“Jonas,” Mike replies equably, not looking away from Kevin’s wrist. His eyes are all dark and sort of creepy, in a way that is most definitely not hot at all. Except that Kevin’s belly is clenching, and he kind of wouldn’t mind if he died right now.
“What-“ Kevin swallows, and Mike’s eyes flick up, just for an instant, then back down to his grip on Kevin’s arm. “What are you, um. What are you doing?”
Mike frowns and hums for a moment. Then he says, like he’s still thinking about it, “I’m trying to decide if you’d die of fear of me eating you, or of embarrassment of the hard on you’d get, if I bit you right now.”
Kevin swallows again, forcing down a lump in his throat. “Mike,” he starts, but then there’s a hot, wet drag over the skin of his wrist, and Kevin’s breath catches in his throat. “I don-I don’t know why you would, uh. Why you’d think I’d be, be aroused by you, uh, doing-“
Mike grins at him, looking up through his fringe to meet Kevin’s eyes. “You would be,” he says, like there’s no question at all, like Kevin isn’t straight and also not into being fed on.
“No, okay, look, Mike, you’re-we’re friends, okay, now, and I’ve forgiven you for that whole thing when we met-but-okay, but I’m not, not into men, alright, or. Or that, the biting thing.” It’s true. It is. And the licking has raised no doubts whatsoever in Kevin’s mind. None at all.
Mike looks at him for a long moment, calculating, and Kevin feels something in his stomach tighten. Slowly, without looking away from Kevin’s eyes, Mike raises Kevin’s hand to his mouth.
“Mike-“ Kevin says, for what feels like the thousandth time today.
“Jonas. Shut the fuck up a minute, okay?” He doesn’t wait for Kevin to say anything, which is probably good, because he’s dragging his tongue over Kevin’s palm, his wrist, the pads of his fingers, and Kevin doesn’t think he could say anything, anyway. He’s maybe even having trouble breathing-and, as Mike sucks Kevin’s finger into his mouth, Kevin wouldn’t hesitate to raise the ‘maybe’ to a ‘definitely.’ Kevin is definitely having trouble breathing.
Mike’s mouth slips off his finger, and he sighs against Kevin’s skin. Kevin’s whole arm spangles. Nervously, Kevin licks his lips, tries to say something, maybe like, “That was nice, really, but no, thank you,” but Mike clearly takes the whole lip-licking thing as an invitation. He leans in, and Kevin’s heart stops. His lips are cool and soft and sort of chapped, and Kevin doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to move again.
And then Mike is gone, moving away, and Kevin is cold. “What-where are you going?” he asks, honestly confused this time.
Mike doesn’t meet his eyes. “You don’t want this,” he says, growly, like he’s mad at himself, and then he’s gone, the door to Kevin’s dorm banging shut in his wake. Something that might be “Fucking kittens,” drifts through the door.
Kevin tries really hard not to cry. It doesn’t entirely work.
--
“He kissed you?” Bis asks, raising an eyebrow. “Are you sure?”
“What kind of question even is that?” Kevin demands. “Yes, I’m sure!”
Selena giggles and leans her head onto Biscuit’s shoulder. “Ha. It’s not like you’d know from your vast wealth of experience.”
Bis snorts. “That’s terrible, dear, don’t taunt the poor boy.” She stops, considers what she just said, and bursts out laughing. “Never mind.”
Kevin leaves when it becomes evident that they’re more interested in taking each other’s clothes off than helping him. He tries not to gag at the noises on his way out.
--
Bill is Kevin’s last resort. He’s sure not going to Biscuit or Selena again.
When Kevin goes looking for Bill, he finds him in the Starbucks across from the Aderhold building, and Gerard, the art major, is with him. They’re gesturing wildly at one another over a piece of paper.
“I’m dying,” Kevin announces, flopping into the seat next to them.
Gerard looks him over, shoving a tuft of pink hair out of his eyes. “Are you sure? You look mostly in one piece.”
“As much as you ever do, anyway, poodle,” Bill cuts in, smirking. “But you don’t smell like you’re dying. You smell like…” He trails off, considering.
“Kittens,” Kevin fills in morosely. His life is ending. He’s stupid, and Mike is wonderful, and Kevin is not even a little bit straight, and Mike thinks, finally, that he is, and everything is terrible. And he smells like kittens.
Bill snaps his fingers. “That’s it, exactly, Jonas. Kittens. You’ve never been more right.”
Kevin stands up as Gerard leans in curiously, trying to sniff him. This can only get worse. Bill will probably end up trying to use hand puppets again, like he did when Kevin asked him what scissoring was. Kevin has never been more horrified than he was that night. “You know what? Never mind. I’m just… going to go. Away. Now.” He backpedals out of the coffee shop as fast as his legs will carry him, and only just misses crashing into Mike on the way out the door.
Mike snorts, shoves Kevin out of the way, and goes to sit with Bill and Gerard. Like he and Kevin didn’t even know each other.
--
Mike has the best arms. They’re wiry and strong and there’s a cord of muscle that wraps around his forearms that just begs Kevin to lick it. Kevin has come to terms with this fact. He’s accepted his complete and total retarded amounts of homosexual desire for Mike Carden.
Mike also has this feral look in his eyes all the time, lately. Like he wants to eat everyone in his way, and like it’s all Kevin’s fault.
When Kevin finally gets him alone, it’s in the hallway of Bill’s apartment, on an evening in early December, two weeks before finals. He means to say something, he does, but Mike’s all sleepy-looking, like maybe he was doing whatever version of napping vampires have, and his hair is all ruffled and in his eyes.
“Um,” Kevin says, instead of anything sensible or coherent or resembling an apology for how much of an utter retard he’s been.
Mike glares at him for a minute and crosses his totally epic arms. “What, Jonas?”
Kevin still completely fails to respond. He hadn’t factored in the inrush of total mind-babble in the wake of deciding that he was allowed to think about boys-Mike-in a sexy-times sort of way.
Mike’s lips curl slowly up into a smile. “You’re looking at me,” he says, looking back. It makes Kevin feel uncomfortable and sort of naked.
“I have eyes, they look at things,” Kevin says, defending himself. He does have eyes. They do look at things. And he can’t tear them away from the strip of skin peeking out between Mike’s shirt and the top of his jeans. It’s so pale that it looks like it’s glowing-Kevin wonders what Mike looked like before the virus. If he was tan, if he had freckles or tan lines or if he sunburned easily.
Mike slides two fingers under Kevin’s chin, tips his face up. He leans in close enough that Kevin can feel Mike’s breath on his lips. It’s warm and smells like iron and coffee.
Kevin swallows hard. “Mike,” he says, hardly moving his lips at all.
Mike’s eyelashes dip down once, twice. “Yeah?” he says, and his voice is rough and low.
Kevin doesn’t actually remember what he was going to say. It might have been something like “I’m sorry,” but he’s not really sure. Something in his chest is tight, like there’s someone squeezing his lungs and ribs and heart. “Never mind,” he says, looking anywhere but Mike’s eyes.
“Good,” Mike says, and leans in the rest of the way.
--
Mike’s kisses aren’t lazy, or sweet, or careful. He kisses hungrily, like this is as close to devouring Kevin as he can get, so he’ll take what he can. Kevin sort of can’t help melting into it.
Mike’s teeth graze Kevin’s lower lip, and a sparkle of venom seeps into Kevin’s bloodstream, making him gasp. Mike grins, like he’d done it on purpose, and sucks hard at the lip. “I want you,” he murmurs into Kevin’s mouth, over and over, and strokes a hand up Kevin’s ribcage, under his shirt.
Kevin arches into it, presses back against the knuckles that graze his stomach while Mike undoes the buttons on his jeans. “Yeah?” he asks, trying to ignore the tremors in his hands as he slides Mike’s shirt up, over his chest.
Mike grins wolfishly. “I’m going to make you scream, Jonas.”
Kevin doesn’t doubt it. He tries not to give in too quickly, though. He doesn’t think that’s really what Mike’s looking for, anyways.
--
Kevin isn’t sure if they’re… dating. But most days, Mike is there when Kevin falls asleep, and he’s usually there when Kevin wakes up, too. Most days, Mike brings him dinner after class, as soon as he can get out once the sun’s set. Most days, Kevin and Mike cheerfully endure everyone’s good-natured taunting, and try to pretend like they aren’t disturbed and turned on, respectively, by Bill and Gabe’s constant, violent, public sex. Most days, Kevin does his best to avoid seeing Selena or Biscuit naked, and mostly he fails, because all of Kevin’s friends have bizarre problems with boundaries and personal bubbles and basic hygiene.
Kevin has learned not to ask why he doesn’t ever see bite marks on Selena’s neck. Mike has learned that Selena will slap him if he makes that-time-of-the-month jokes, even if it’s obviously that-time-of-the-month. Selena has learned that Bill and Gabe are not monogamous, and are not above trying to get into her strictly lesbian pants. Kevin has learned, through a horrible sock-puppet reenactment, that Selena’s pants are not as strictly lesbian as she’d said they were. Bill and Gabe have learned, painfully, that Bis doesn’t take kindly to boys touching her ladyfriends in naked ways.
Mostly, though, Kevin has learned how to be stupidly, satisfyingly happy for the first time in a long time.
--
Mike is kind of a slut for Kevin. It’s not like he’s Beckett, getting all crazy and naked and on his knees for the first person that says, ‘go,’ but with Kevin? Mike kind of wants to see how far he can push him, how much he can do before Kevin falls apart and lets him pick him up again. And maybe half of it is to prove to himself that he will, will pick him up again, and the other half is to maybe see if Kevin will let him. Either way, Mike goes all out.
Kevin whimpers when Mike sucks bruises into the sides of his throat. He mewls, hips jerking up frantically, when Mike nips at the skin stretched over his hips. He pants, desperate and wanton and gorgeous, when Mike goes down on him. Mike would bet money that it’s the first time anyone’s done it to him, too. That shouldn’t be as much of a turn-on as it is.
The big vein in Kevin’s thigh is pulsing with the rapid beat of his heart. It’s distracting, throwing off his rhythm. Mike runs a thumb over it, over and over, as Kevin pushes up into his mouth.
“Mike, Mike, please,” he babbles, and Mike’s thumb keeps time over the vein. It almost glows, soft and indigo under the gleam of sweat-damp skin.
“Mike?” Kevin says, unsure, unsteady, and Mike realizes that he’s stopped moving, entranced by the beat of blood under his fingers.
“Sorry,” Mike says, and moves to take Kevin back into his mouth. Kevin’s hand on his hair stops him. “What?” he asks, a little peevish, shaking the hair out of his eyes to look up at Kevin. He’s trying, he is-there are just some things that are... distracting. It’s not like he can help it.
Kevin hesitates. “Are you…” he takes a deep breath. “Is it that you’re. I mean… hungry?”
Mike shrugs. “Not exactly.” He is, though. He hasn’t fed in weeks, not since he and Kevin got together. Kevin isn’t possessive, but he’s a guy with brothers, brothers who got what he wanted, a lot of the time, so he doesn’t get loudly jealous, he gets quietly sad, and Mike doesn’t want to see that kicked-puppy look any more than he has to. He doesn’t know how Kevin would react, if he actually thought about Mike feeding on other people, being that intimate-because it is intimate, however casual Beckett acts like it is-but he doesn’t want to risk scaring Kevin off this soon.
“You just,” Kevin pauses, like he’s sounding it out. “You just want me.” His face his beet red. “To…eat. Drink. Whatever.”
Mike sits back on his heels, looking anywhere but at Kevin’s face. “You make it sound like I want to kill you.” He doesn’t, it’s not. It’s not anything like that. Fuck, it doesn’t even feel the same as being hungry-it’s just an urge. A push, to sink his teeth into Kevin’s skin and taste. Even if he is hungry as fuck. “I-you realize, right, that I haven’t, I mean, I’m not feeding off anyone else. We’re together, Jonas, and I didn’t want-I didn’t want you to think I wasn’t all in.”
Kevin looks away from him, blushing pink. “You-I mean, you don’t. You just want to, uh. A little?”
“Yeah,” Mike says, and gnaws on his lip a little. “Not-I mean, it wouldn’t be… I don’t want to hurt you.” He pauses; that’s not exactly true. “I wouldn’t want to hurt you anymore than you’d like, anyways.”
Kevin squawks. It’s sort of stupidly adorable-Mike still can’t get used to thinking anything is adorable. But everything Kevin does seems to be. “I don’t like things that hurt, Mike, geez.”
Mike doesn’t bother to argue, just rakes a fingernail over the curve of Kevin’s hipbone-Kevin’s hips jerk away from the wall, and a little whimper slips out of his mouth. “Oh, yeah, you totally hated that,” Mike teases, licking over the red line to sooth it.
Kevin shudders and braces himself with a hand in Mike’s hair. It feels nice, like it’s maybe bracing Mike, too. Anchoring him. “Well, okay, not totally,” Kevin concedes, hiding a grin. He sobers after a moment, though, and says, “You really want that?”
Mike studies his hands. “You wouldn’t hate it, Jonas. I’d-I mean, I’d make sure.” He feels himself reddening. This isn’t right, this isn’t how it goes. People beg him for this, he doesn’t skirt around it like an awkward fucking teenager.
Kevin’s silent for a minute. Mike doesn’t look up-doesn’t want to jinx it, doesn’t want to seem too eager. He is, though, he’s trembling, hands shaking like it’s his first time. He barely even remembers being a virgin, it’s completely stupid, completely fucked up. But his hands are shaking anyway. He rests his head against Kevin’s thigh, feels Kevin’s pulse under his cheek. Kevin runs an absent hand through his hair for a minute.
“Not-“ Kevin swallows. “Not like this. I mean.” He tugs Mike to his feet. “I mean, yes, okay, yes, but not. Not here. Home? The-the dorm? Bed?”
Mike grins, can feel the smile eating up his whole face. “You’re serious?” he says, and he doesn’t mean to, but he beams. “You’re sure?”
Kevin smiles back, a little hesitant, but nods. “Yeah. I’m-I’m sure.”
--
Kevin pants, open mouthed and damp, as Mike scissors his fingers inside of him.
“Okay, Jonas?” Mike murmurs in his ear, stroking his hair with his other hand.
Kevin laughs, a little hysterically. “Oh yeah,” he breathes, and it maybe comes out shaky. He’s not sure if he’s ever been more terrified or more into something in his life. Mike’s fingers brush over something inside of him, and Kevin tries not to make noise, but a little cry maybe slips out anyways.
Mike chuckles into the skin of his neck. “Fucking hot,” he says, like Kevin doesn’t sound like a complete moron, and presses a fingertip into that spot again. Kevin’s vision goes white, and he’s blinking the stars away when Mike pulls his fingers out. He sits back on his heels and studies Kevin for a minute.
Kevin feels sort of exposed, lying on his back, knees apart. He tries to sort of curl himself up, to help with the feeling, but Mike pins him in place, lays him out flat. “I feel naked,” he confesses, fighting Mike’s grip a little.
“You are naked,” Mike says, clearly trying not to laugh. “I thought that was the point.”
Kevin means to argue more, means to explain, but then Mike is pushing his knees back towards his shoulders and pressing inside, and Kevin tries really hard to breathe through the pain.
“You okay?” Mike asks, not stopping, pushing forward and deeper until Kevin thinks that he’s going to cry.
Kevin takes a deep breath and steadies himself. “Hurts,” he says, quietly, ashamed, and doesn’t look Mike in the eye.
Mike nods into Kevin’s shoulder. “It won’t in a minute,” he says, and Kevin believes him. Then he’s tracing distracting lines over Kevin’s throat with his tongue as he rocks in and out, pressing a little deeper each time. It hurts less and less, and then Mike’s pressed up against that spot again, and Kevin doesn’t remember, exactly, what was the problem before, because there are stars exploding in his stomach and it’s all he can do not to moan.
Mike presses back against it, harder, this time, and Kevin can’t even manage that anymore. Mike is nipping at his neck, sucking at the skin, and there’s a tiny graze of teeth when Mike asks, “Ready?”
Kevin tries to remember what he’s supposed to be ready for, but he nods anyways, because he’s sort of ready for anything right now. And then Mike bites down, and Kevin feels tears stream out of his eyes as skin splits under Mike’s teeth.
--
Kevin spasms around him, clenching down, and it’s all Mike can do not to come right then. Kevin’s breathing is rough and ragged, and he’s clawing frantically at Mike’s shoulders. Mike can’t tell if Kevin’s trying to pull him closer or get away.
“Shh,” Mike whispers, lapping at the bite. Kevin’s blood sings on Mike’s tongue. It tastes like cherry coke and electricity and sugar and Kevin, and if Mike could die, he would probably pick right now to do it, because nothing has ever felt like this. It’s the closest thing to sunshine that Mike’s felt in years. “Shh.” He holds Kevin steady, doesn’t move much, just rolls his hips a little now and then, to remind Kevin that he’s there while he feeds. Kevin is whimpering, nails digging into Mike’s skin, and he’s so hard that Mike can feel his pulse mirrored in his cock, trapped against Mike’s hip.
“Mike,” Kevin says, sounding strangled. “Mike, Mike.” He’s rocking his hips up, into Mike, grinding against him.
Mike presses back, pinning him to the bed, and feels the growl rip out of his throat, can’t hold it back. “Hold. Still,” he says, and bites again into the wound on Kevin’s neck. Kevin keens, fucking keens, and his hips lift of the bed as he tightens around Mike again. His mouth opens and closes wetly near Mike’s ear, and Mike pets Kevin’s jaw with one hand, holding his chin clear, out of the way. He bites deeper, sucking more of the sharp, bright liquid into his mouth. “So fucking good,” he hisses into Kevin’s skin, and Kevin doesn’t respond, just sobs and thrusts against Mike’s abdomen.
--
Kevin feels like he’s moving through molasses, and like there’s glitter and live wires in his veins. It’s the venom, he knows that, mentally, but he doesn’t really give a crap about anything other than getting Mike deeper inside of him, moving faster, getting over the edge of the exhilaration thrumming through him.
“Please,” he gasps, and he knows he babbles something after that, but Kevin isn’t exactly sure what it is, and he just wants friction, pressure, anything.
Mike digs his fingers into Kevin’s jaw and tips his head to the side, exposing more of his throat. “Please what?” he growls, it’s an actual growl, and Kevin wishes he could be afraid, but he’s just. Just pulsing, humming with desire and desperate.
“Anything,” Kevin says, and he knows that’s wrong, he doesn’t want anything, he wants to come, but he’s not sure he can even find the words to ask for that.
Mike seems to understand, though, because he moves inside of Kevin again, thrusts hard and fast and deep, and Kevin feels his hips hitching up with every motion. Mike’s teeth are gone from his neck, now Mike’s sucking, hard, and Kevin can feel himself getting dizzy and lightheaded through the pressure building, low in his belly.
Mike growls again, in the back of his throat, and picks up speed. One hand, the one not on Kevin’s jaw, slides between them to wrap around Kevin’s cock and jerk hard, once, twice, and then there’s a rushing noise in Kevin’s ears and a painful white light behind his eyes, and he’s pretty sure that there’s never been anything this amazing, ever, in the history of the entire world.
Mike pulls away from the side of Kevin’s throat and looks at him. Kevin blinks at him, hazily, and there’s blood all around Mike’s lips when he kisses Kevin, but Kevin isn’t sure he minds. He pants into Kevin’s lips as he thrusts again, fast, and pushes in as deep as he can, holds himself there and groans.
When they’re melted together, sticky and damp, Mike curls himself around Kevin’s side and laps at the knitting wound on the side of his neck. “You regret it?” he asks, roughly, like he’s trying to sound like he doesn’t really care one way or another.
Kevin tips his head a little further to the side, to give Mike better access. “No,” he says, and means it. He can feel Mike’s grin against his skin.
--